Does He Drive You Wild? Or Just Mildly Free?
by CailinNollaig
Summary: He whispers in her ear so quietly, so low and soft, that for a second she swears she imagined it. But his grip on her hand is tighter, more urgent, and his hand on her back presses them even closer together. "Don't marry him."


A/N: I hate putting authors notes at the start, but I had to tell you to please listen to the song "Accidental Babies" by Damien Rice while listening to this song. Tis perfect!

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It's been a glorious night by all means; she's made all the right connections, schmoozed with the entire royal brigade and done it looking a million dollars. Everyone seems to be having a good time, and though she doesn't feel as comfortable as she lets on, Blair flashes that great watt-smile she possesses at the attendees. It's another social gathering, another attempt at acceptance, another night of pretence.

Blair tells her friends she's not pretending; she feels more at home here than she has anywhere else. _Lies. _Her mind screams at her through the bright laughs and clever words.

This is all she's ever wanted though; a fairytale ending. She wants it to be like the movies. Yet, why does she feel so empty? Blair tries to reiterate with herself the fact that she's going to be a _princess_. Not in the spoilt brat sense she's been referred to as all her life, but in an actual legal and political sense. It's difficult to process, but she can't deny she adores the title.

She adores the title – does she adore _him? _Doubts have been creeping over lately. Everybody knows that doubts are dangerous, especially with the threat of gossip girl hanging over your shoulder. Blair is deathly afraid of any blast being about her and her fiancé, because who knows what the girl will spew this time.

Blair escapes to a back room for a moment, taking deep breaths to regain her memento. Cold feet are natural, as are nerves and worry; Blair has heard it from nearly every bride she has spoken to. Except Dorota, of course..

She hears the door open quietly, and knows instantly who it is by their breathing and the sound of the expensive shoes against the hardwood floor. Blair closes her eyes in weariness, hoping that when she opens her eyes, she will have only imagined his presence. Except, she hasn't got that great an imagination and he's standing directly behind her. Blair tries not to tremble at the anticipation of his touch, but it's proving extremely difficult. This is wrong. What if someone found them alone together? Conclusions would immediately be jumped to.

"You look ravishing," his voice is that low, deliberate tone it always is. She has missed it.

Blair turns, fire igniting in her eyes. She hisses angrily, "What are you doing here, Chuck?" She's not going to fall victim to his charm again. This is it; she's with Louis now. There is no Chuck and Blair.

Why does her breath hitch upon those words?

He doesn't reply, only tilts his head to further capture her gaze. He's always so intense; those deceptively dark and brooding eyes bore into hers with a greatness that takes her train of thought away from her. He takes a stand back, instantly leaving her feeling cold, and extends his hand, "Dance with me?"

She's surprised that he's asking and not telling, he usually demands things of her. Blair reminds herself that he's changed – but even if this dares to be true, he's still Chuck and she's still Blair. Blair marrying Louis. What is Chuck even doing here?

_Well I held you like a lover,  
Happy hands and your elbow in the appropriate place._

As if her body has its own mind, she moves towards him. He catches her in a swift, yet proper, embrace. They're a little too close to be considered formal, but she doesn't mind. She never minds and that is the problem.

Her anger trickles away, leaving behind only longing and a burning sense of regret. What is she doing to herself? Blair wants to be angry. She needs to be angry at someone. She wants to ball her fists up and bang his chest relentlessly in a fit of rage; she wants to spit harsh words his way, and avoid looking at his slight flinch that only she would notice; she wants to tell him to never come within two feet of her again.

Does she really want to?

Their hands are sweaty like they never have been before, and it's strange to think the infallible Charles Bass would get sweaty over anything but sexual activity. Except, she's seen the vulnerable side to him, and Blair knows him better than anyone in the world.

She stops herself from thinking about how that works both ways.

His hand, resting on her lower back, pulls her closer. Their clasped hands, previously held far away from their bodies, are brought into rest on his chest. Blair can't look into his eyes anymore. She slowly turns to lean her head on his chest, not removing their hands as she believes they create some semblance of a barrier between their bodies. Blair always believed that ignorance is bliss, too – if not stupid.

His voice startles her, as the sound vibrates through his chest and into her ear, "I'm sorry."

Blair frowns, the words sounding unfamiliar as she can count the amount of times Chuck as said it to her, "For what?"

There's a sound of deliberation, a strangled sort of noise, before he answers her, "Everything. For trading you in some twisted deal, for using you and constantly taking you for granted. For not telling how I felt sooner. For getting so disgustingly angry with you… I'm sorry," With the ending of his apology, he pulls back to grasp her gaze with his own.

She's startled. How is she supposed to respond? He had made her so angry, so miserable, so hateful of herself that she doesn't know how she can respond. He's made her question almost everything she's ever known, but part of Blair wonders if that is even a bad thing.

It's easier to remember the horrible parts when _they're _apart.

Blair settles on saying the only think she can think of, "Thank you."

_Well I know I make you cry,  
And I know sometimes you wanna' die.  
But do you really feel alive without me?_

He whispers in her ear so quietly, so low and soft, that for a second she swears she imagined it. But his grip on her hand is tighter, more urgent, and his hand on her back presses them even closer together. "Don't marry him."

Blair grapples to locate the appropriate words, but all of her sense and speech has been snatched away with one breathless sentence. Logically, she knows exactly how to respond. She knows what she must say, and what she must do, but this is easier said than done. Blair doesn't want to hurt his feelings – and though she'll never admit it, part of her isn't ready to let him go. Will she ever be?

With her failing to respond, Chuck continues, "He doesn't understand you, Blair. He's trying to make you into something you're not… You're not this person."

Fire starts to bubble in her stomach once more, "What? A good person?" The words are like lightning, striking him down in shock.

"You think you're not a good person without him? Please," he says derisively, "Blair, tell me you want to spend your whole life pretending to care about his family, their culture and leave behind this entire world you have here. Tell me you feel like you're at home there." Those magnetic eyes grab hold of hers once more, and she feels as if he's reading her soul.

Blair shakes her head, "Don't do this." She takes two steps back, their hands lingering together for a second too long upon their bodies parting.

_And is he bold enough to take you on?  
Do you feel like you belong?_

"He's not what you need, or want." Chuck says with tenacity, "He's soft. He's boring, and we all know you hate boring, Waldorf." A ghost of his signature smirk graces his features.

She only hears what she wants to, "Don't tell me what I want. You have no idea."

"Tell me, when he holds you at night after a short spout of average sex, do you sigh in content like you did? Do you fall into a blissful sleep completely satisfied?"

Her nostrils flare, "I'm done, Chuck! I'm _done. _Who the hell are you to remark on my relationship? You can't pick and choose when to love me, care for me or want me – you can't _do_ this to me."

_Do you come together ever with him?  
Is he dark enough, enough to see your light?_

He laughs mirthlessly at this, appearing exasperated, "It's _always _been you, Blair. You just pick and choose when to acknowledge it."

The words have the desired effect on her, because she pauses to consider them, giving Chuck the leeway he wants. Closing the gap between them once more, he stands astutely in front of her, silently asking her to take the last step towards him.

Blair shakes her head then, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. She fights away the droplets pushing and prodding to break free of their restraints, and says quietly to him, "I'm not doing this anymore, Chuck. I—I am not the same person. I'm not doing this. I—I… " she trails off, and walks towards the door, stepping around him expertly. "I have a party to host." She sniffs, takes a deep breath and readies herself to return.

Her hand touches the doorknob when he grabs her free wrist, pulling her swiftly back to him. Blair knows what's coming before it happens, and is almost prepared for the meeting of their lips. Except, she's never prepared for the explosions that go off in her head, or the fluttering in her stomach, or even the heat between her legs. Nothing ever prepares her for Chuck Bass and his kisses.

His arms wrap around her and clutch her tightly, never wanting to let go. She kisses him with a vigour she forgot she possessed, as if something had suddenly awakened within her and she wanted to explore every crevice of his mouth – as if she hadn't before. He's just as hungry though, meeting her passion in equal measure and she has to stop herself from moaning in pleasure. She _needs _this.

Reality crashes down around them as she accidentally knocks over the light while throwing her arms around his neck. Hastily, she scrambles away from him. It takes one moment to compose herself, smoothen her hair and then she's acting like they had been exchanging pleasantries regarding the weather. Blair nods to him, "Goodnight, Chuck."

_And does he drive you wild?  
Or just mildly free?_

_What about me?_

She returns to the night, but the truth can't be re-written or twisted; Louis will never make her feel like Chuck and it's a reality that she will have to spend quite some time overruling.

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_A/N: _Hey guys, so please feel free to tell me what you think of that. It's my first GG story, and I absolutely adored writing it. They are an amazing couple, one of the best-written couples on TV up until the recent season. Anyway, I digress, please review :) This is what I would have liked to have happened, with them eventually obviously leaving together like they did in the actual TV show.

Disclaimer: I do not own "Accidental Babies" by Damien Rice or Gossip Girl.

Thanks for reading!  
CN.


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